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Construction Paper HeartIn all my life, there are many things my brothers taught me. Very few of them were taken seriously, and I can only remember a handful.

And so, rule number four was as follows: If you're ever on your first date with a guy in a restaurant and your date orders a lemon margarita, dump him. Immediately. Just end it right there.

Rule number six was to never, ever feed a stray cat tuna, for then, they will become tuna junkies.

Yes, I know, they're both very important life lessons; I agree. However, there's a deeper meaning in both of them. ...Well, alright, maybe there isn't.

But they did teach me this, and it's more than enough to make it throu

Just Like WineI ran as fast as I could up my driveway when I returned home from school. I hadn't had the best of days, to say the least. It was raining at the time, and I wanted to get inside as soon as possible.

It wasn't until I reached my doorstep that I asked myself, What am I doing?

I don't know how the idea came into my head. I don't know why I carried it out. Regardless, I threw on shorts and a t-shirt and sprinted to my back door. I didn't cast the umbrella in the corner even a glance as I stood at the clear glass separating me from the outside world. Water was cascading like a waterfall down from my gutter and it was raining normally beyond that

Two am.Two am is not a time for lovers, I know this now. Two am is for the lonely. Two am is when the car starts on the third try, when the turning of the engine sounds like a tear in the universe. It is when the road opens up in front of you, bowlegged and bare, and you turn off your headlights to let the night air bleed in.

Two am is for jumping the fence and smoking cigarettes on swing sets from your childhood while somewhere in the distance the lost lights of airplanes blink at you, on and off.

Two am is when the traffic lights switch over to flashing amber beams and the memory of your ex-lover's curves burn themselves into your fingertips, in

Prosperity and Harm

As I gaze at this photo, I realize how strange it must look to some people, a waist high blue tub, papers lined on the edge, and two men holding a dripping wet child. It was my baptism, I was 10 years old. A year prior I had asked Jesus into my heart and this baptism was the moment when I became a “born-again,” Christian. I was raised in the evangelical protestant Christian Church of the Nazarene, a denomination that came out of the Holiness movement of 19th century America. This denomination believes strongly in “believer’s baptism,” meaning you are baptized after you have accepted Jesus’ salvation

Dreams: I Want To Hold Your Hand... i had a dream last night. i do not remember what it all entailed, i rarely ever do..., but most of my dreams are nightmares at best. Ever since You left, i have been nothing but sad and depressed. i always wake up crying or not even breathing from my dreams...

But this dream was different. The part that i remember the most and which was the best part, was only a few seconds long... And it was something so simple, but brought such happiness. And most people will laugh or raise an eyebrow, thinking me totally crazy. Which they're probably right... You, on the other hand, will probably just roll Your beautiful eyes as You normally do

Confined EnvironmentMy bedroom is very similar to an insane asylum room, it is exactly 2 metres wide and two metres long.
From the floor to the ceiling it is just under 3 metres, I am only able to fit a bed, wardrobe and shelves into my room, though luckily there is just enough space to fit a PC monitor and cables down the side of my bed.
The shelves are filled with Xbox games, DVD's and a 2 framed photographs; one photograph has been autographed by my favourite comedian, Lee Evans, and the other photograph is a of a my granddad playing at Arsenal Stadium in 1955, the game was Islington V Brighton, which is funny since Brighton now are by far the better team out of the 2, but that must have been a proud moment for my granddad, playing for his home town.
I forgot to mention that the shelves also have CD's on them, mostly music people wouldn't listen too. Except for maybe a few exceptions. The of CD's off the top of my head are mostly all Bob Dylan, though some do stand out, like the Ste

My Life from Then to Now. [[PERSONAL]]my life from then and now

I’m graduating so, I wanted to look back at my life.

Some things may be vague, if not extremely vague. That’s because certain things are better left untold.

Reason I’m doing this? I think people don’t understand how much I’ve changed through the years. How much different I was seven years ago. The Nikki I am today is striking compared to the old Nikki. The new people in my life don’t know it either. So why not tell? Plus I’m graduating. It’s nice to look back and remember this stuff. And honestly, I just feel like writing it. I don’t do this often. Don’t

My cat's sad story - Please read and helpOnce upon a time there was a rainy summer day. Near to the Danube, like every summer, me and my family were in our little summer house. Every year there are tons of stray cats searching for food and places where somebody finally give them love. Almost black or grey cats. But on that day, on that sad stromy day a little desperated white kitten came to our garden. My mother realised the little thing. My mom's friend was also there and he said he just had painted some cats from black to white. My parents laughed and they brought me the little pet. I was watching TV. By the way I was 11. Waiting for high school* I was full of happiness and youngn

Homestuck OC Bio: Cyfres NarranSo, me and my sister decided to make a new OC troll since my batch lacks a few other blood colors. So meet the new, tree-themed OC, Cyfres Narran!
Cyfres Narran
Title: Prince of Time (since my batch lacked a time player)
Age: 6 Alternian Solar Sweeps (13 human years)
Blood color: http://knuckles009.deviantart.com/art/OC-Trolls-updated-Hemospectrum-373120768
Font color: Red orange (will explain why later on)
Trollian Handle: chlorophyllTerritory
Typing Style:
Pre-/Post-Sgrub: Perfect grammar, syntax and punctuation. Avoids using 'foul language'. capitalizes L, E, A and F.
Ex. Oh, Look REssAL! WhAt A bEAutifuL forEst!
God Tier: all lower

Confessions by a Soldier's Sister"There’s just something about a man in a uniform."
Is there now? What is it about a man in a uniform? How does a simple uniform change a person? Why not say there’s something about a man in a fedora? But that’s just me. The truth is, as cliché and ambiguous as the phrase is, it’s also so darn true. There is something about a man in a uniform. On Friday night, for me, it was a slap in the face.
I don’t dislike men in uniform. I think a uniform makes a man look respectable and well put together. I come from a family of men in uniform. They are proud, strong, and dependable. I love men in uniform. So of all people,

Smoke Stitches: The Fabric of Family Smoke Stitches: The Fabric of Family

I’m looking at a picture.
What a way to start. It’s an overdone, typical beginning. Someone standing with a photo album, flipping through pages of family reunions, only recognizing every third face they see. Suddenly they come across a picture of a person they almost forgot existed…or it could be you, doing a little light dusting on a bookshelf in the corner, brushing a rag down the spines of authors you promise to read again someday, just not today. You pick up a picture frame with the purpose of wiping the filth from the glass, but after the first swipe, you see a gaggle of smiling

Umm... Hi. So, I was flipping Umm... Hi. So, I was flipping through old things on my computer from middle school, and I came across a memoir about my Grandpa I wrote when I was in Grade seven, and after reading it started to cry. Then, I wanted to find my mark for this. I looked around and ended up finding it. It was 104%, which really isn't possible. But it was out of 25, and my teacher gave me a extra mark. My LA teacher at the time even submitted it to the yearbook! It got in, too!
So, enough chit-chat! HERE IT IS:

Goodbye

Uncomfortable silence filled the car.
“Umm… Is he going to be okay?”
“I-I… don’t know.”
The awkw

Valla mejor amiga.Estaba tranquila chateando con las chicas, y laura estaba haciendo su tarea en un costado de mi cama. Todo iva bien hasta que Mari empezo a insultar a las chicas, mi enojo llego hasta un punto. Con rabia tire mi portatil en el piso, laura se avia sobre saltado, le dije que iria a matar a Mari, Laura me discutia diciendo que estaba muy debil como para salir de la cama, y yo solo le dije "Mari la insulto" ella me solto, y me fui lo mas rapido que pude pero me cai en el pasillo, Gabriel aparecio detras mio y me alzo en su hombro.

Gabriel: para donde mi señora?
Yo: a la cochera, iremos a por Mariene.

Fuimos a la cochera, Albaro iva a con

Why?Why does Monday come before Tuesday?
Why do Summers start in June?
Why do Winters come too soon?
Why do flowers come in May?
Why does Spring go away?
Why do people fall in love?
Why do we love if love will die?
Tell me: Why do I love you?

Why do the rivers flow to the sea?
If rivers flow; Why can't your love go through me,
Why does my mind feels so missed,
To be in love,
To feel your love,
Why don't I feel complete?

BleakI thought I’d already experienced the darkest, bleakest time of my life – Christmas 2012. I was coming home from work and bursting into tears. I couldn’t cope with the smallest amount of stress or pressure. I felt like I was falling to pieces and so, turning to my doctor, I was signed off work 2 weeks before the Christmas holidays.

It took a long time to recover. Christmas was bleak, I spent most of my time in bed as sleep was my only escape from the pain of the depression, and held little joy or interest for me. I went through all the motions and did the usual things but inside I just felt hollow and empty. I didn’t

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words that won't come trueonce i scrawled poetry on a small piece of paper in church.
i think it was about summer and tire swings and swimming pools and love
- things i wished for but never got

i hid the tiny paper inside the cover of my bible,
but it fell out and i think a few people read it.
they wouldn't remember now, but i remember

and i'm still in church, writing poetry that nobody will ever read.

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by ~pastel-uchuujin, Oct 1, 2012, 11:02:36 AM
Literature / Prose / Non-Fiction / Biography & Memoir / Stories & Vignettes

^{people say i laugh too much for a sad person

people tell me to stop being so hyperactive

i am insane, and i am happy when i'm hyper
but i'm still sad, inside

i guess that acting like an idiot is how i vent
i don't like making people super aware
that i'm really, really, really not okay
it makes me feel uncomfortable

i wish people knew that it makes me sad
when i feel i can't let all the crazy out

and i wish i knew what made me like this.

maybe then everything would be okay}

laughterby ~pastel-uchuujin

Literature / Prose / Non-Fiction / Biography & Memoir / Stories & Vignettes

^{if laughter is the best medicine, why do people complain about it so much?}

~Okay-Always Oct 12, 2012

I'll let you in on a secret, my dearest Inago: You just described me.
And it was done eloquently. Nicely done.

~pastel-uchuujin Oct 14, 2012

Thank you very much, Inago!!!

It makes me feel happy that I'm able to write things that are relatable

but at the same time it makes me feel awful - I don't think anyone should have to feel like this

~Okay-Always Oct 14, 2012

I completely get that. But I think everyone is secretly like this, deep down, and some people are just a bit more open about it and others just deny it...

~pastel-uchuujin Oct 20, 2012

yeah, i agree, everyone is to some extent.
but it's still not a great feeling

~koibeato Oct 1, 2012 Student General Artist

well said.. im the same way

~pastel-uchuujin Oct 6, 2012

^{thank you very much
it's an annoying feeling, i'm sorry that other people also relate.}

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